Winnie the Pooh and Gastric Bypass Surgery Too
by Rose103
Summary: Pooh has gotten just too fat. What happens when he gets gastric bypass?Naughty Language
1. Chapter 1

Part One

Retired NFL pro bowl star running back Shawsey Sanders poked his head into his kick-ass stainless steel subzero refrigerator. He had bought some aged Livarot cheese imported from Tours France, and was anxious to try it with some fine wine from his cellar. He peered into the door of the fridge. He could have sworn he had put the cheese right there. Where in the hell could it be? He also noticed that the cherry pie that hippie-dippie Kanga had made was gone. Pooh must have scarfed it down, but he left the empty pie tin still in the fridge.

"The fat ass," Shawsey muttered. He shut the fridge and went to see if Pooh knew anything about his cheese.

Pooh lay on the Italian leather sofa watching Maury Povich give paternity tests in the media room. One hand was holding a chilidog with so much relish, onions, and slop on it, that you could hardly make out what it was, the other hand was scratching his privates.

"Pooh," Shawsey asked. "Have you seen that fine, aged, Livarot cheese that was in the fridge? I can't find it."

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered. "Tis a travesty being a bear of such wee size brain. I don't recall any Livarot cheese, though I did make some nachos for breakfast this morning. I used a block of cheese that was in the door."

"That was a fucking sixty dollar block of cheese!" Shawsey cried. "You used it to make nachos!"

"They were yummy in my tummy," said Pooh. "I melted the cheese, and put some hamburger over it, some honey, jalapenos, guacamole. Oh bother now I am getting hungry again."

"I ordered fine cheese from France only to have you make some disgusting nachos that all they are going to do is cause you to shit all over the toilet!" Shawsey jumped on the sofa and pinned Pooh to it, the chilidog fell to the floor.

"Yeah," Pooh moaned. "By the way, the toilet is plugged. You need to do something about it."

This wasn't the first time that Pooh's eating had been a problem. Pooh paid five hundred a month to stay with Shawsey in his cosmopolitan, luxury, town home, but with all that Pooh ate, Shawsey had been contemplating having Pooh chip in on the grocery bill. Why when Shawsey first started his football career, he roomed with two other football players, and the three of them didn't come close to consuming the amount that Pooh could eat.

Pooh was big on big pig breakfasts. Pooh was originally from Nebraska, and was a corn fed boy. He was accustomed to down home breakfasts of hickory sausage links, grits bubbling with butter, chili topped hash browns, four dozen eggs doused with ketchup, fried bacon, English muffins slathered with lard spread, Then since he spent most of his days watching his line up of Regis and Kelly, The Golden Girls, Days of Our Lives, General Hospital, Maury, T.J. Hooker, and McMillan and Wife. Not only did he watch the shows, he ate his way through them. He would eat bags and bags of potato chips, bags of candy bars, frozen pizzas, chimichangas, containers of bean dips, cakes, pies, and mallow mars

Going out to eat with Pooh was a revolting voyage as well. He would go with Piglet, Tigger, Rabbit, Eeyore, and Christopher-Robin to Bennigans, T.G.I Fridays, Ruby Tuesdays and order three appetizers, six cheeseburgers, and everything on the desert menu.

"I'm fucking sick of you eating me out of house and home," Shawsey shrieked. "You're always splitting your pants open! You either go on a diet and eat like a normal human being, or you buy all of your own food, and stay out of my fridge!"


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

Pooh was a bear of little brain, and his only worry in the world was whether or not there was a pot of honey in his pantry.

Pooh had the life as far as fat silly bears are concerned. He lived in a very cushy house that his roommate retired NFL running back Shawsey Sanders mostly paid for. He spent his days watching Shawsey's sixty-five inch home theater with surround sound TV, going to parties, playing the inactive game of "Pooh Sticks," having tea and goodies with Piglet, and stuffing himself with honey until he felt if he ate a bite more he would puke. While this lifestyle is as desirable to old bears as Hugh Heffner's is to old men, it was not a healthy existence.

Winnie the Pooh had always been on the portly side because of his love for food, and his corn fed ways. But in his adult years smackerals of honey became one smackeral of a problem. For one thing Pooh was always splitting open his silky red lounge shirts that he liked to bum around the wood in. As an adolescent he wore an extra large. That soon became XX large, then XXX large, and now he wore a XXXX large. He would wheeze and huff and puff even during the least demanding physical activity such as getting the mail, bringing his empty honey pots to the dishwasher, or having a bowel movement.

Pooh's friends were concerned for their favorite silly bear's health. One time Pooh, Tigger, Christopher-Robin, and Eeyore went out for dinner. Pooh demanded they go to Old Country Buffet because it was all–you-can-eat fried honey battered shrimp night. At $6.99 all the food you could possibly want at the buffet there weren't any complaints, except from Old Country Buffet when Pooh nearly ate them out of business. Pooh piled his plate high with fried shrimp, fried chicken, potato salad, onion rings, french fries, pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits drenched in honey, BBQ, coleslaw, corn with butter, macaroni and cheese, cold mayonnaise loaded salads, cornbread, prime rib, pork chops, and this was just his first trip up. He hadn't yet tackled the desert, pasta, or sandwich table yet.

"Hey Dude leave some for the other customers," Tigger said as Pooh scraped up all the broccoli cheese soup out of the pot.

"Tigger," said Pooh. "I know I'm a bear of little brain but how can I pass it up at only $6.99? I need to get my money's worth. There's always room in my tummy for my money's worth."

"Yeah but is there room in that tight red shirt?" Tigger replied. Pooh's face turned as red as his shirt, and he felt rather embarrassed. His shirt was bulging at the seams from Pooh's honey gut. But that didn't stop him from running the soft serve ice cream machine empty building world's largest ice cream cone for dessert. He also took two pieces of every pie and cake on the table, made a huge ass sundae, scoffed up all the pudding, and ate seventeen cookies.

After their meal they went hot rodding in Christopher-Robin's red pickup truck around the Hundred Acre Wood. After an hour of driving, Pooh demanded they stop at Bennigans so he could order a few plates of appetizers. Eeyore, Tigger, and Christopher-Robin were quite full. They sat and sipped cokes while Pooh scoffed down plates of potato skins loaded with sour cream, cheese, and bacon, spicy chicken wings, creamy spinach dip with tortilla chips, and french fries loaded with cheese and chili.

"Pooh you're such a gluten pig!" Christopher-Robin announced for the whole restaurant to hear. "I bet the clothing that sumo wrestlers wear would be too tight on you. You're so fat they'd charge you for five seats on Southwest airlines!"

"Fuck that dude," said Tigger. "They'd need to fly in a separate jet bigger than Air Force One to fit Pooh in!"

"And Pooh's weight would cause it to crash during take off," Christopher-Robin chimed in. "Then there would be nothing but Pooh's lard seeping all over the runway, and eventually seeping over the whole Hundred Acre Wood!"

"It would be okay if Pooh's lard drowned the whole wood," Eeyore said. "The force of impact from Pooh hitting the ground would cause us all to die anyway. Our bodies just would be covered in lard for all eternity instead of being eating by worms and slugs. The Hundred Acre Wood is an armpit anyway."

"Is not," Christopher-Robin retorted. "I can't imagine a worse way of dying then being slimed to death by Pooh's blubber."

"Well Pooh will probably die one night late in his bed of a heart attack," said Eeyore. "Happens to the obese all the time. "Every time my phone rings I expect it to be a frantic phone call saying that Pooh has keeled over."

Pooh's other friends had more humane ways of letting Pooh know he was beyond big boned. Once Piglet dragged Pooh to see the ballet Giselle. Pooh was saved from having to sit through it for three hours by his blubber. Pooh's ass took up five seats in the theater, and Piglet had only bought two tickets. Others had bought the seats around them, and Pooh and Piglet were escorted out.

"Oh bother," Pooh said once they had been kicked out of the theater and all Piglet could do was peep at the ballet through the crack in the closed theater doors. "I guess I'm just a little bit too chubby."

"Chubby?" Piglet asked. "Oh Pooh I don't think I'd call it that."

"Really Piglet?" Pooh replied. "You don't think I'm chunky?"

"No," said Piglet. "I think, I think."

"What do you think?" Pooh demanded.

"Oh dear. I'm afraid to tell you," Piglet cried. "I'm afraid you won't be my friend anymore."

"I'd be your friend even if you told me you crashed one of the planes into the World Trade Center on September 11," said Pooh. "What is it?"

"Well Pooh," said Piglet. "You're grossly overweight and I'm worried about your health. I think you should see a nutritionist and go on a diet."

Owl also confronted Pooh about going on a diet. They were at a party at Kanga's house and she served cake. Pooh was standing there gobbling down his fifth piece when Owl who had a little too much cognac came up to Pooh and announced very loudly

"that piece of cake is the last thing a fat hog like you needs! You shouldn't eat anything but lettuce and carrot sticks. You should give that piece to one of the anorexic bimbos with the fake boobies that Tigger dates. Have you ever thought about going on this really great cabbage soup diet? My great uncle's godfather went on it and lost thirty pounds in two months!"


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Winnie the Pooh went on a quest to drop some pounds. He was sick of being embarrassed at parties, or at restaurants with his friends. He consulted Kanga who worked out a lot and had a personal trainer. Kanga was a fitness fanatic and she got Pooh set up at the gym with her trainer. This began a long string of unsuccessful attempts for Pooh to loose weight. He lost pounds. Even as much as forty, but he gained it all back within one month. Pooh worked with trainers, nutritionists, Metabolife, Slim Fast, herbal supplements, the _Women's World _fad diets of the week, aerobics class, kick boxing, liposuction, hypnosis, and Shawsey Sanders even paid for Pooh to spend two months at an exclusive celebrity fat farm in Montana where he hung out with Jack Nickelson and Mariah Carey. He even had Richard Simmons calling his house at eleven o'clock at night, which was Pooh's most vulnerable time for pigging out on sweet honey fried foods to give him dieting pep talks. But poor Pooh Bear would always break down stuff himself with sugary sweet honey, and the fried foods he craved, and gain it all back.

Then one day Kanga read about a procedure in one of her girly fashion magazines. It was called stomach stapling. The procedure was only done on very obese patients. The stomach was stapled so it was way smaller and could only hold very small amounts of food. This made it impossible to cram yourself with tons of food because your stomach could hardly hold any more than a few crackers or a couple slices of toast. Kanga clipped out the article and left it in Pooh's mailbox. Pooh sat one morning eating one of his massive pig-o breakfasts, reading the article. Shawsey Sanders breezed into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of Wheaties and began to cut up a banana for it.

"Why Pooh I never see you reading much. The only thing I've seen you read is the directions on the Easy Mac box," he said.

"Kanga dropped off this article to me," Pooh exclaimed. "Oh bother. It seems dreadfully painful."

"What is it?" Shawsey asked. Pooh showed Shawsey the article. "This might work for you," said Shawsey as he watched Pooh scoff down a whole box of Honeycomb cereal. "You can't seem to control your eating habits so this would control it for you. Plus my grocery bill would sure go down."

"But it would hurt," Pooh whined.

"Nah," said Shawsey. "They'll conk you out for the operation. If you wake up and have some pain I'll lend you some of the pain pills I still have from my football playing days. They'll make you all nice and happy and touchy feely!"

"Well I don't see how I could go off my diet if my stomach was stapled so small it couldn't hold much in it," said Pooh. "Maybe it is the answer. But I would never be able to eat much honey again."

"And you'd be fit, trim, and healthy forever," Shawsey reminded him.

"I'm a bear of little brain but wouldn't surgery like that be a lot of money?" Pooh asked. "I've got so many bill collectors and IRS people after me. I can't rack up any more."

"I'll pay for it," said Shawsey. "I have so much money, and it would make you healthy."

"Oh bother, I can't be a charity case," said Pooh.

"I insist," said Shawsey. "If you don't get this surgery you're always going to be way overweight because you're just too used to eating everything in sight. But this surgery will change that and I want you healthy. I want to room with a healthy Pooh bear, not a dead one."

"Oh thank you," Pooh exclaimed and ran to give Shawsey a hug. "You're so very generous. I'm going to get this surgery done and then I'll be able to shop at normal clothing stores, sit in a Japanese car, go on an airplane, play sports, and no one will make fun of me anymore. I'm so glad you have money!"

Shawsey Sanders retired with millions from his football playing days. He fled to the Hundred Acre Wood so he could live a quiet, docile, life away from the public eye. His digs in the Wood were a safe heaven from Felix von Maurer's nagging phone calls about abandoning his contract, ESPN reporters, and journalists such as Mitch Albom , and his pushy father, who all wanted to pester him about giving up football. Since he frowned upon the public eye he refused to do those stupid commercials for Campbells Soup and 1800 Collect, and he mostly certainly did not do any sports announcing. He filled his days with playing golf, getting his cars washed, reading, hanging out at the country and yacht club, and screwing white girls with big tits.

"I'm glad I got money too," Shawsey said. "Only good thing I got out of playing football for a shitty team."


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

So Winnie the Pooh was met with Doctor House, and evaluated for stomach stapling. House agreed that Pooh was the perfect candidate. He was about one hundred seventy-five pounds overweight, had done absolutely everything to try and control his eating, had dangerously high blood pressure, and cholesterol, and was too fat, lazy, and indulged, to try exercise. Pooh also had to undergo psychiatric evaluation, but since Pooh was a bear of minute size brain, Doctor House waived it. Pooh was tested and prepped for surgery. The surgery itself was risky and would take place at the hospital.

Christopher-Robin, Owl, Rabbit, Tigger, Piglet, Eeyore, Kanga, Roo, and Shawsey Sanders were all congregated in the waiting room of Ford Hospital in Detroit the morning of Pooh's surgery. Piglet had her little pink rosary and was reciting Hail Marys. Owl was telling the receptionist about his second cousin's boyfriend who met Willard Scott at a Sonic Drive-In in Virginia, while Kanga sat doing her nails, totally oblivious to little Roo who ran up and down the corridors knocking into doctors, nurses, screaming at the top of his lungs, and being a big pain in the ass. Rabbit was reading _Women's World, _Tigger _Maxim, _and Shawsey Sanders sat in the far corner dressed in a huge, navy blue, down parka, with the hood pulled up tight around his face to disguise his identity. Eeyore stood gazing at the Coke machine with a glazed look in his eyes.

"All I wanted was a bottle of overpriced cherry Coke," he moped. "And the machine won't accept my money. I guess my money just ain't good enough for it. Hopefully I'll die of dehydration."

"You ass funnel," Christopher-Robin laughed. He got up and kicked the shit out of the Coke machine that spat out not one but three cherry Cokes. "There now we have one for Pooh to drink when he gets out of surgery," he said as he popped open one of the bottles.

"Pooh isn't going to be able to drink all of that coke after the surgery," Rabbit reminded them.

"Pooh isn't even going to make it through surgery," said Eeyore. "You know he's going to die in there. He'll bleed to death, or the doctor will be a fraud, or maybe his heart will stop. Any way he'll never make it off the operating table. Hopefully the doctor will be a fraud and we can sue him for malpractice, and be set for life, but stuff like that never happens to me."

"Don't say such a thing," Piglet squealed in horror. "Pooh's not going to die!"

"Yeah he is," said Eeyore. "I think we should call a priest right now."

Piglet began to sob loudly, almost as loud as Roo's shrieks as he charged through the hospital knocking over trays of needles and supplies.

"Someone get this brat out of here!" A nurse screamed.

"Roo darling," Kanga said. "Why don't you come over here and sit on Mommy's lappy?"

"Fuck you," Roo spat and threw a tray of insulin across the room. "Ah!"

Now Kanga joined Piglet and Roo in the chorus of screaming. Finally she got off her ass and charged towards her son. "Where in the hell did you learn to talk like that young man!" She demanded. She picked up one of the needles that Roo had toppled over and held it over her trembling son. "If you don't tell me where you heard that word then I'm going to shove this needle right into your thigh," Kanga threatened.

"Tigger," a terrified Roo squeaked. Kanga left Roo and charged at Tigger who was reading an article about Pam Anderson's boobs. She shoved the needle deep into his arm.

"Ah!" Tigger screamed. "You fucking bitch!" He began to crazily bounce around the waiting room chasing Kanga, who ran to avoid Tigger's wrath. Roo went back to being a pain in the ass, Eeyore began to sing _Where you there When they Nailed Him to the Tree_, and Piglet's sobbing broke out into high pitched wails.

"I do not know these animals," Shawsey said to a nurse. Doctor House emerged from the operating room.

"I have finished Pooh's surgery," he announced. With all the commotion nobody heard. Shawsey was laying in fetal position in the farthest away corner praying nobody recognized him, but it was hard to keep a low profile with Pooh's friends. Christopher-Robin had found a nurse he found rather hot and was asking her if she wanted to play doctor in his English accent that he knew chicks loved.

"Pooh is in the recovery room," Doctor House said again. Still nobody noticed. "Pooh's surgery is finished!"

Shawsey Sanders noticed Doctor House standing in the waiting room looking perplexed. He tried to motion Rabbit to go talk to him but Rabbit was too absorbed in the inspirational story of a dying mother who was saved by angels to notice. Shawsey had no choice but to speak to the doctor himself.

"Hey Doctor House," he said and went over to him. "Is Pooh okay?"

"As okay as one is going to be after having their stomach seared open and having the inner folds of it stapled down, and sewed back up," Doctor House replied. "He's going to be sore for a while. He shouldn't do any physical activity until after the stitches come out."

"But he's alive?" Little Piglet asked.

"Yes. He's just coming out of the anesthesia," said Doctor House.

"Yipee!" Piglet squealed. "I bought him a cheese and candy basket from the Swiss Colony! I can give it to him when he wakes up."

"No Piglet," Doctor House said. "Pooh's stomach is about the size of a hummingbird's. He'll probably only be able to eat one pettifore and one cube of cheese from that basket."

"But I bought him a huge one," Piglet whined. "It was seventy-five dollars!"

"I'm sure your friends will enjoy it," said Doctor House. Just then Tigger who was trying to escape from Kanga and her needle bounced into Shawsey, knocking him over, and causing his hood to fall down. Shawsey Sanders lay exposed on the hard tile floor.

"Oh my God!" Shrieked Doctor House. "Your Shawseyy Sanders! Will you sign my jacket?" He thrust his rancid jacket coat in Shawsey's face. Tigger ended up bouncing into a heart monitor causing it to shatter, and Kanga shoved three needles of morphine into him.

"You ass twaddles better hope to God you don't get sick or need any emergency medical care," Shawseyy bitched as a bunch of other doctors and nurses came up to him for an autograph and to ask him if he'd every play football again. "I'm never taking any of you idiots to the hospital again!"

"That's okay," said Eeyore. "I'd rather die. I'd feel bad for taking medical care away from someone who has a really great life and wants to live."


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

Pooh started his long road to recovery. He was on hardcore pain killers that made him feel sleepy and doped up, which was better than having your guts feel like they had been seared in a barbecue. Piglet insisted on giving Pooh the gift basket from the Swiss Colony. It sat on Pooh's bedside hospital table all wrapped up in pink cellophane, and a huge pink and green plaid bow. Pooh had little sausages, blocks of cheese, decorated pettifores, crackers, honey cookies, and honey scones staring at him 24/7 saying eat me, eat me! Finally Pooh got to the point where he didn't care how hurt Piglet's feelings were and he ordered the basket to be taken away and donated to the homeless shelter. The next day Piglet came to visit Pooh at the hospital. She brought him a pretty beaded necklace she handmade herself. Right away her eyes darted to the bedside table where the gift basket had once been.

"Pooh did you finish eating your cheese basket all ready? It was all here yesterday. You shouldn't pig out like that or else you'll make your new tummy explode open."

"Of course I didn't eat the basket," Pooh growled. "My stomach is about the size of pea! How in the hell do you expect me to eat a gift basket?"

"Well where'd it go?" Piglet asked. "Is it under the bed!"

"Fuck no you blasted idiot!" Pooh screamed. "I gave it away! I was tired of having the cock sucking thing staring at me because I can't eat any of it! I had it taken away!"

"Oh dear," said Piglet. "I bought that basket for you Pooh. You should have told me and I would have taken it back and bought you something else."

"Well maybe you should think before you buy," Pooh snapped. "You knew that after this surgery the food I'd be able to eat would be minimal. But instead you go out spending your money like a drunken Paris Hilton buying someone who just had their stomach stapled and their intestines rerouted the biggest, and most fattiest gift basket you could possibly buy! What were you trying to do? Kill me?"

Piglet was now in tears. Whenever anyone raised their voice at her she cried. She cried once when she went to Kanga's man -made fundamental church and the preacher got too carried away with his sermon.

"You never ever have talked to me like that before," she cried. "When they stapled your stomach did they staple your heart too? I bought that gift basket as a gesture of love for you. I thought you could nibble on it over a period of a few months. You didn't have to pig it all down in one sitting!" She ran out of the room. Pooh started to call out after her but screaming hurt his lacerated stomach, plus _Days of Our Lives _was about to come on.

A week later Pooh was sent home. Pooh was overjoyed. The hospital was cold and noisy. The food had been disgusting. Pooh knew he couldn't eat much, however since he could only eat a tiny portion he would rather have small portions of yummy food that tasted good instead of cold, tuff, Dinty Moore like beef stew, halfway mixed tapioca pudding, and rice with these odd hairy things in it. Pooh could continue his recovery watching Shawsey's home theater TV, eating real people food, talking on the phone, and playing video games. But Pooh didn't really think of all the temptations that were waiting for him back at home. All of Pooh's food had been cut in half. He could eat about half a chicken breast, or half a piece of fish. Small baby sized cans of yogurt or a baby size box of raisins as a snack. But Shawsey still worked out regularly, stayed active lifting weights and jogging, so he always ate a lot. Shawsey still had a pretty big grocery bill feeding himself. The pantry and fridge was stacked with Shawsey's favorites; cold cuts, olives, caviar, Pepperidge Farm cookies, Walker's shortbread, Godiva truffles, fancy cheeses, Betty Crocker mixes, nuts, and Hoggen Dos ice cream. One Sunday morning while Shawsey and Pooh were watching the NFL pre game shows Shawsey made a huge pan of fresh cornbread with real butter and honey. Pooh stared with longing as Shawsey nestled down into his recliner with a huge skillet of bread, a jar of honey, and a stick of butter. Pooh looked down at his breakfast of half a banana, three apple slices, and half a slice of toast. That breakfast wouldn't even feed a baby frog! The sweet smell of the cornbread lingered in Pooh's nostrils and actually made his newly stapled stomach growl.

"Oh bother," Pooh muttered.

"Yeah I know the Wolves really suck this year," Shawsey said with a mouth filled with cornbread and honey. "Glad I left them when I did. At least they're the laughing stocks of the NFL and I'm not. The lions suck too."

"No not the Lions," said Pooh. "Cornbread."

"The cornbread doesn't suck," said Shawsey. "It's delicious. Nice and moist, warm."

"Do you think I could have just a little smackeral of cornbread and honey. Instead of the toast I can eat a bite of cornbread," Pooh said with his mouth salivating.

"I don't see why not," Shawsey answered and cut Pooh a very small piece of bread with a tiny drop of honey on it. But you give a bear an inch they take a mile. By the time the game started Pooh himself had polished off over half of the skillet of cornbread and three jars of honey. Pooh felt so sick. His poor little stomach was so saturated with honey that the inner lining was all stuck together. All he could do was remain curled up in an uncomfortable ball as he watched the first half of the game and try not to vomit. At halftime Shawsey made himself a huge ass sandwich with ham, salami, roast beef, pepperoni, green peppers, three different kinds of cheese, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, onions, mustard, and dripping with 1000 island dressing, on huge thick pumpernickel bread. Pooh would have just sold his soul to Satan himself for a sandwich as spectacular. Pooh didn't have to. A supernatural force came over him that was unstoppable. He got up, went to the kitchen, and made one of his own. Pooh gulped down most of the sandwich before he turned green, and he could almost feel the staples popping loose. He had to dash to the bathroom to puke. Pooh was in hell and too ashamed to ask Shawsey for a pill for the pain. He stayed in a tight ball for the rest of the day.

Pooh also had problems going out in public with his friends. He went out with Christopher-Robin and Tigger to take Christopher's pickup for an oil change. Afterwards Tigger suggested stopping for a late lunch at Hooters.

"No!" Pooh shouted.

"Why not?" Christopher-Robin asked. "You love Hooters."

"No," Pooh said even louder.

"Yeah chicks with jiggly boobs, spicy chicken wings," said Tigger. "You usually have about six platters full."

"I can't eat like that anymore," Pooh replied. "I'm lucky if I could eat one chicken wing."

"So have one chicken wing then," said Christopher-Robin. "You can look at all the tits that you want!"

"Yeah," said Tigger. "Or does your stomach have a limit on how big the tits you can look at are?" Christopher R and Tigger collapsed into laughter at this and Christopher-Robin almost crashed into the little touchy-feely hybrid car in front of him.

"Silly old bear," he laughed. "Tigger and I are going to Hooters to dig chicks and chicken wings! It ain't our fault that you had to have your stomach stapled shut because you're a gluten who cain't control himself!"

"We want chicken wings!" Tigger chanted.

"Oh bother. Stop the car," Pooh demanded.

"We're on fucking Gratiot Avenue! Are you fucking nuts?" Christopher R snapped.

"I said stop the god damn car!" Pooh screeched. "I'm getting out and I'll call Rabbit or Shawsey to pick me up and take me home!"

"You're not going to sit on the side of the road you dork," Tigger snapped.

"I fucking will," said Pooh. Christopher-Robin stopped at a traffic light and poor Winnie the Pooh climbed out of the car. He found a pay phone in the parking lot of Wal-mart but he couldn't get a hold of Rabbit, Shawsey didn't answer his cell phone, Owl didn't pick up and had no answering machine, he felt embarrassed to call Piglet since their shouting match at the hospital, but he did get a hold of Eeyore.

"Eeyore you're home!" Pooh said happily.

"Of course," said Eeyore. "I never go anywhere. I'm never invited anywhere. I might go to the grocery store on Tuesday nights and that's it."

"Well could you come and pick me up?" Pooh asked. "I'm stranded in the parking lot of Wal-mart, and it's getting cold."

"I should have known the only reason I'd get a call is because someone needs something," said Eeyore. "Nobody ever wants to go grab dinner or see a movie with a lousy, stupid, ugly, gray, donkey."

"I'd go to dinner with you or see a movie except I can't eat very much," Pooh explained. "It's no fun going to dinner when you can't go all out on drinks, appetizers, and deserts, and movies aren't any fun without candy and popcorn."

"Well nothing is much fun with me," Eeyore moped.

"Can you pick me up?" Pooh pressed. He didn't really give a shit if a car ride with Eeyore was like a car ride with Sadam Hussein, he was desperate to get back home.

"Fine," Eeyore said. "Just give me about fifteen minutes to get out there. Hopefully I won't get in an accident. Nobody ever calls me when they don't want nothing."

Pooh waited outside in the cold for about twenty minutes. Finally Eeyore's gray rusted 85 Cutlass came plopping down the road. Pooh sat in silence as Eeyore bitched on and on.

"All anybody wants from me are favors. No one ever calls to say Hi Eeyore how you doing? Or hey Eeyore want to go to a Lions game? Or hey Eeyore want to get some dinner? You know what I'm sick of these damn gigantic SUV's hogging up the road. Pretty soon cars like mine aren't even going to be allowed on the road anymore because of these beastly SUV's."

Pooh was too absorbed in a pool of self pity to really tune in to Eeyore's ramblings. "I can't remember the last time anyone's asked me to dinner," Eeyore went on. "I've been just dying to go to Macaroni Grill sometime for their chicken Marsala but I ain't going there alone. I've been out a couple times alone and people stare at you funny when you go out to eat alone. But since no one ever wants to go to dinner with me I guess I'll never get to go to a Macaroni Grill again."

"Look Eeyore," Pooh snapped. "I would love to go to dinner with you but I've just had gastric surgery! I can't go pig out on a big Italian meal anymore! I'd get physically sick!"

"Yeah yeah whatever," Eeyore sighed. "I'm really pissed off at the gas prices! They've gone up ten cents a gallon since last week! I'm sick of these fucking Arabs messing with our minds. I'm sick of everyone asking me to shuttle them around the wood like a free chauffeuring service but no one wanting to spend any time with me doing things such as going out to dinner!"

Finally Eeyore pulled in the driveway of Shawsey Sanders's pad and Pooh was free from Eeyore's commentary on life.

"I'll never call him again," Pooh said as he let himself inside. He felt isolated from his buds because he couldn't eat like them. Piglet, Christopher-Robin, Tigger, and Eeyore had all seemed to forget that he couldn't eat much anymore.

Not being able to socialize much with his buds made Pooh feel lonely, excluded, and bored. Tigger tried to patch things up by asking him to go to a monster truck rally at the old Pontiac Silver Dome. Pooh knew that if he went he would never be able to pass up the delicious treats they had at the Silver Dome. Hot dogs with cheese and chili, snow cones, beer in plastic cups with no ice, nachos, and mini Dominoes Pizzas. So Pooh had to decline and instead spent his weekend helping Shawsey polish his golf clubs. He had been asked to three Friday night kegger parties but had to decline because Pooh's stapled gut wouldn't allow much drinking, and if he didn't participate in chugging contests, and shot slugging than he would be made fun of. This took a toll on Pooh's outlook on life. Eeyore wasn't they only bitchy one in the Hundred Acre Wood.


	6. Chapter 6

PartSix

One Saturday afternoon Shawsey tired to figure out a way to get Pooh out of the house for the evening. He had a brand new honey he wanted to have over for dinner and champagne and a big fat Pooh bear sacked out on the couch didn't fit with the ambiance that Shawsey wanted to create. Pooh was lying on the couch eyes glued to the sixty-five inch TV screen, watching Ohio State get creamed by Michigan. A baby size empty bowl of Special K cereal sat next to him. Pooh hadn't showered or changed his red shirt in weeks. Shawsey could see dandruff flakes in his golden fur, and his sweat smelled like a combination of dirty socks and vinegar.

"Hey Pooh Bear have any plans for tonight?" Shawsey asked.

"Yeah," Answered Pooh. "_Children of the Corn _is on HBO tonight."

"I think you should go out instead," said Shawsey. "Why don't you call up Piglet, or Tigger and have a little fun. I'll give you some cash."

"Can't" Pooh replied as he stared at the TV and scratched his privates.

"Why not?" Shawsey asked. "I'll give you some money."

"Because," said Pooh. "I can't eat nothing."

"You can eat a little," said Shawsey. "You don't have to eat every last morsel of food they give you on your plate at a restaurant."

"But then it goes to waste," Pooh whined.

"Bring it home to me in a doggie bag," said Shawsey. "We'll have it for breakfast tomorrow."

"Oh bother you don't understand," Pooh moaned.

"Pooh you need to get out of the house. You've hardly moved from the couch in weeks." Shawsey said.

"Get your stomach stapled and see how you feel," Pooh replied.

"You need to go out with your friends. See a movie. You don't have to get popcorn at the movie," said Shawsey.

"Yeah I do," said Pooh. "All of my friends will and then the buttery smell will drive me crazy until I get some and then my stomach will ache and I'll puke."

"Go to the mall. I'll give you my credit card. Buy some new clothes. Something besides red shirts," Shawsey pressed.

"Oh bother," said Pooh. "I detest shopping malls. I went to the mall with Piglet once. I thought I died and went to hell." He began to play with his privates, while still staring blankly at the TV. Sanders was ready to shove a brick through the TV screen.

"Then go to a night club, or go bowling, or go to a play," Shawsey snapped. "But get out of my living room! For the past few weeks I've been dying to have this chick over and I can't because I know you'll be here sacked out on the couch pissing and moaning about your surgery!"

"But I had my stomach stapled and my intestines tugged and tweaked at," Pooh yelled. "Think how you would feel if that happened to you!"

"I don't care," said Shawsey. "It's time to move on! Al Roker had the same surgery as you did and he was back on _The Today Show _within three days! It's time that you go out and do something! Go sit in a church for a few hours but get off of my couch! I did not want a Pooh Bear as a permanent fixture in my living room!"

"Fine!" Pooh screamed. "Have your ho over! I'll just go sit in my room for the evening like Harry Potter does at the Dursley's and I won't make one little peep until your whore is gone!" Pooh got up and went stalking off to his bedchamber, and slammed the door. Shawsey sighed.

"I think I liked him better when he was fat. I guess I'd rather have him eat me out of house and home than chase me out of house and home. "

Shawsey Sanders climbed up the ladder and rapped on the door of Owl's tree house. He had to do something about Pooh. He couldn't spend another day having to tippy toe around the house while Pooh lay on the couch watching soap operas and talk shows while eating little portions of fruit and salad.

"Shawsey what brings you here?" Said a very surprised Owl. "Have you come to hear a story? You know my great great nephew played football in college. He was a full back and a very talented one. He ran for"

"I need to talk about Pooh," said Shawsey who was sick of football stories. "He has hardly left my house since his surgery. I have no privacy at all!"

"Well I haven't seen Pooh at any parties or gatherings lately," said Owl. "I figured since he had his stomach stapled that he had more important things to do."

"No he just sits on my couch all day and night watching TV and feeling sorry because he can't eat like a pig anymore," Shawsey answered.

"Come have a spot of tea," said Owl as he put the tea kettle on the stove. "Let me tell you about my second aunt Owlina who was bulimic."

"I don't want to be an asshole Owl but I don't really care about your bulimic aunt," said Shawsey. "I want Winnie the Pooh to be back to his old self. The old Pooh loved to go out and see his pals. He liked parties, and playing Pooh sticks, and going to football games. I mean he's always been a couch slug but at least before he'd usually go out on a Saturday night and he wasn't always so crabby. He's like living with perpetual PMS!"

"My grandmother used to have terrible PMS," said Owl. "She went on birth control for it. Maybe that's what Pooh Bear needs."

"Oh god," Shawsey sighed. "I almost wished he was fat again. At least then I never had to feel guilty if I wanted to eat a cookie in front of him. Now he gives me this pitiful look like he's an orphan child or something." Owl poured Shawsey a cup of Assam tea and brought out a plate of jelly cookies.

"You don't have to feel guilty for eating cookies here," said Owl. "My sister Owla made these cookies from an ancient family recipe. I don't see why the doctor couldn't just reverse the surgery. It's not like they took parts of his stomach out. They just stapled it. They should be able to take out the staples."

"That's a great idea!" Shawsey exclaimed. "Pooh's already lost some weight since the surgery. He'd be able to eat again and go out with his friends! Do you really think they could do it?"

"Even though I have my Ph.D. in Civil War history, and a bachelors in military history I don't have an M.D," said Owl. "However I did graduate with a bachelors from West Point, a masters from Harvard, and the doctorate from Yale, and I know a lot of medical doctors. I don't see why not."

"Thanks Owl," Shawsey said as he finished his tea. "I'm going to go over to the hospital right now and see. These cookies are real good. Mind if I take a few?"

"Not at all," said Owl. Shawseyy Sanders shoved five cookies into his pocket and headed over to see Doctor House. Pooh would be overjoyed when he received the good news.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

Winnie the Pooh sat at the kitchen snack counter making an unappetizing lunch of a small bowl of yogurt, a handful of granola, and a sprinkle of raisins. He could also have a cordial glass of apple cider. Shawsey breezed through the door.

"Hey Pooh Bear," he said.

"What are you so happy for," Pooh sulked. "Get laid by another piece of white meat?" Pooh was in an especially bitchy mood because Christopher-Robin had invited him to go hiking for three days up in Canada, but that meant eating foods such as huge steaks, fries, burgers, and all the sweet Canadian beer one could drink. Pooh had to decline. There was no way in hell he could chow down on three days worth of junk food. Plus Maury had been a rerun.

"Aren't we Mr. Sunshine today," Shawsey said. Pooh held up the bowl of yogurt.

"Well you'd be ornery too if you had to eat this shit!" He moped.

"Pooh imagine what it would be like if you could go back to eating whatever was laid out in front of you again," said Shawsey.

"Why are you being so mean," Pooh cried. He ended up chucking the bowl of yogurt across the room. "You think it's funny that I can't eat anything anymore!"

"No," said Shawsey. "I think your new attitude since the surgery sucks. I talked to Doctor House. He says that you can have the staples taken out of your stomach and your intestines rerouted to the way they used to be. Then you could eat again!"

"Oh bother I would have to be poked with a needle again," said Pooh. "That would hurt."

"But only for a few days," said Shawsey. "I'll give you my painkillers."

"Oh bother," Pooh mumbled. "I don't want to be all drugged up again. I don't want to go back to the hospital. No more needles."

"But Pooh you could eat again! We can have our midnight runs to Friendlys and you can slurp up pots and pots of honey," said Shawsey.

"I said I don't want any doctor cutting my stomach open again!" Pooh screeched. "And I'm tired of them poking around with my intestines and rectal area! It hurts!"

"You're being totally irrational," Shawsey exclaimed. "All you do is piss and whine about not being able to go out with your friends and eat! So I have it arranged for you to have reverse surgery and now you turn your nose up at it! You're acting like a spoiled prima donna! You had this surgery so you'd be thin and look good and all you do is stay shut up in the house all day watching MY TV and laying on MY couch! Why not be a fat lardo if you never go outside again?"

"I'm not a prima donna!" Pooh yelled. "I'm just a silly old bear of little brain!" Pooh stalked off to his bedchamber and slammed the door. He cried for an hour and then eventually fell asleep. Pangs of hunger woke him up. He was so hungry. He would just die for a slice of honey cake with butter cream frosting on it. But his new stomach wouldn't like it and he didn't want to see Shawsey downstairs.

"I suppose I shall just stay in my bedchamber forever," Pooh lamented to himself. "Since I can't go out and eat anymore no one wants to be around me. There's no use for a Pooh Bear! I'm lower on the totem pole than Eeyore!"

It was Saturday evening. Twilight was settling in on the wood. And pretty soon Christopher Robin and his buds would be coming to fill up the back of the pickup truck with Tigger, Eeyore, Rabbit, and Piglet for a night of restaurant food, hot rodding, good beer, wild parties, and chicks in tank tops. But poor Pooh would be shut up all alone, with nothing but dry lettuce to eat. Now he couldn't even go watch TV because Shawsey Sanders thought he was a prima donna.

"Think, think, think," Pooh said. "What's a bear to do." He rearranged his sock drawer again, and played solitaire for about two more hours. Pooh was bored out of his mind. He usually didn't hang out in his bedchamber much. The room with the home theater TV was much more fun. Pretty soon Pooh started to smell something. It was pizza! Pooh's stomach thrashed with hunger at the smell of gooey melted cheese, spicy pepperoni, olives, and green peppers. He ran to his window and saw a Papa John's car outside. Shawsey must have ordered a pizza, and crazy bread with dipping sauce, chicken tenders, and coke. Pooh Bear adored cold, sweet, tangy, foamy, Coca Cola. He opened his door a crack and crept over to the stairwell. He could hear Shawsey paying the pizza boy for the food. Shawsey had on his long dark parka to keep his identity hidden from the pizza boy. Pooh crept down a couple of stairs and peered at Shawsey through the banister rungs. Shawsey opened up one of the pizza boxes to show a mound of sausage, golden cheese, green peppers that glistened like emeralds, and pepperoni rubies. The aroma of fresh milky cheese filled the air. Pooh's stomach growled. Pooh longingly watched Shawsey carry the food into the media room. Shawsey was probably going to watch some fantastic DVD movie such as _Gladiator _and Pooh would miss out on all the fun. Pooh could smell it as Shawsey opened up the parcel of bread sticks and cinnamon dipping sauce. He couldn't stand it any long. A supernatural force came over him and he flew down the stairs and into the media room where he flung himself down on the floor and prostrated himself at Shawsey's feet.

"Oh bother Mr. Sanders," Pooh cried. "I can't take it any longer. I want the reverse surgery! I want my stomach unstapled. I want to be able to binge on pizza and cheese, bread sticks, and smackerals and smackerals of honey!"

A smile came upon Shawsey's usually sullen face.

"Silly old bear," he said. "I knew this would work. I knew once you caught a whiff of Papa John's you'd be begging for the surgery." He dangled a piece of pepperoni laden pizza in front of Pooh's nose. "We'll take you in tomorrow and by tomorrow night you'll be able to eat a whole pizza again!"

The next day Pooh was again taken to Ford Hospital for surgery. He wasn't scared this time though but excited.

"I want a huge chocolate shake, a roast beef sandwich, and spicy curly fries from Arby's as soon as I come out of the recovery room," Pooh ordered.

"Yes sir," Tigger saluted. "Christopher R and I will go get it for you while you're under the knife, and we'll have a bag waiting by your bed for you when you wake up."

"And Piglet," said Pooh. "Bring me the hugest, most extravagant, most expensive, basket that the Swiss Colony has to offer."

"But Pooh," said Piglet. "I thought you didn't want any more Swiss Colony gift baskets. You yelled at me and accused me of trying to kill you."

"Oh Piglet I will never yell at you again," said Pooh. "You're my bosom buddy. Now I want a gift basket with a huge hickory beef log, and a cheese sampler, and some of those pettifore things."

"Okay," said Piglet. And she went to go phone in an order to the Swiss Colony for the most elaborate gift basket that hey sold.

Like before Pooh's procedure was uncomfortable and he woke up to pain and soreness. His stomach had been pulled on, and his intestines rerouted. But his room was over flowing with treats. A gift basket the size of a gazebo sat in Pooh's room. It was stuffed with three differently seasoned beef logs, a sampler of seventy different cheeses, crackers, a sampler of jellies, hot cocoas, pancake mix, real maple syrup, pettifores, fudge, five cheese cakes, chocolate dipped fruit, butter cookies, and fruitcake. It was wrapped in green cellophane and tied together with a huge gold bow. His bag from Arby's sat on his bedside table with an extra large chocolate shake and a double order of fries. Kanga had baked a chocolate frosted honey cake. Rabbit brought carrot muffins, Eeyore even bought Pooh a carton of Whoppers. Owl brought a basket of English scones and a bottle of clotted cream.

"Yipee!" Pooh sang. He couldn't move well due to surgery so he couldn't dive into the gift basket as if he were Scrooge diving into his money bin. He got started on his meal from Arby's, the Whoppers, muffins, honey cake, and scones.

"Hey Pooh Bear," said Shawsey. "How you feeling."

Pooh smiled with his mouth full of french fries.

"My tummy is sore but this shake and fries makes it all worth it. Do you think you could pass me a smackeral of something from the gift basket?" Pooh said with a full mouth. Shawsey handed Pooh the box of pettifores and sat down on the bed.

"That's my Pooh Bear," he said as Pooh devoured half the box in two minutes.

"I'm so happy I can eat again. I wasn't happy being a skinny Pooh."

"No Pooh Bears are meant to eat," Shawsey laughed and handed Pooh a beef log.

"Hey Shawsey," Pooh said. "Would you mind ordering me a pizza from Papa John's. Just like the one you had last night?"

"Of course not," said Shawsey. "Anything else?"

"A pitcher of soda, chicken tenders, and crazy bread with dipping sauce," Pooh ordered.

"Make them bring it in less than a half hour!" Shawsey Sanders shook his head

"Silly old bear."


End file.
